


In The End

by ohmakemeahercules



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:31:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5076133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmakemeahercules/pseuds/ohmakemeahercules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Prompts in Panem, Dreamscape Week, in March/April 2015. Day 4: Howls</p><p>Peeta Mellark has been captured from the Quarter Quell. President Snow wants him to be the Captiol's mouthpiece to supress the rebellion. What happens when Peeta refuses to cooperate with his leader's plans? </p><p>Heavily influenced by In The End by Linkin Park and I Dreamed A Dream from Les Miserables. </p><p>I apologize for any broken hearts and tears in advance. Thank you for reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The End

In The End

"I think you may recognize this place."

Peeta stepped in the front door. It was District 12's tribute apartment. Many moments occurred within these four walls. It still had the sleek and modern design with a full feast at the table. The most noticeable change was two armed Peacekeepers standing on opposite walls. Peeta raised an eyebrow. “What are they doing here?"

"We added some changes. We thought you might like them," Ignatius, his new escort, replied with evil clownish smile

"Yeah, they really add to the decor," Peeta replied dryly.

Everything changed from the moment he was captured from the jungle arena. He had been whisked away from the aircraft for several hours of interrogation and torture. He was finally released under the condition he would be subject to 24 hour surveillance. He was no longer the doe-eyed boy who confessed his feelings for Katniss on national television. Now he was a war criminal who didn't deserve any mercy. The revelation was unsettling at best.

"I need to lie down. Am I allowed to do that?"

"Why, of course." Ignatius answered with sickeningly fake sweetness.

Peeta headed down the hall without another word.

 

The apartment had become somewhat of a home with a makeshift family. A highly dysfunctional family, but deep down everyone cared for one another. Laughter and spirited conversation once filled the air. While he didn’t always find the topic interesting, he’d give anything to have that atmosphere back. Anything to counteract the deafening silence under the Peacekeepers’ imposing glare and Ignatius' sneer. His steps echoed through the hall.

An orange tinted light caught his attention from the room on the right. He stopped in his tracks. Katniss’ room. The beam showcased the untouched bed. The comforter looked pristine, as if no one ever slept under the covers. Peeta knew better. The nights during the Victory Tour and before the Quarter Quell were theirs alone. Her presence comforted his soul. Feeling her snuggling close in his arms meant she trusted him. He didn’t take that trust lightly. Katniss wouldn’t let just anyone know her so intimately. Alas, those moments only existed in their memories. And if that was all he had to take to the grave, he was okay with that.

His heart crushed in his chest as he flopped down on the bed. _What does it matter? It’s gone and there’s nothing I can do to bring it back. What little I did have has once again been stolen from me because I’m nothing but a pawn in this stupid fucking game President Snow likes to play with our lives_. He caught a whiff of fresh pine trees and fresh wood bark. _She would smell like this after a day of hunting_. How was this still lingering on the sheets? He figured they’d have been washed by now. Maybe it was a Capitol concoction; strategically placed there to taunt him and remind him of what was no longer his.

He looked up at the window. The sunset was not unlike the backdrop of his and Katniss’s kiss on the beach merely hours earlier. Had that really only been one day ago? _Why must you torture me with your beauty, oh universe?_ Everything about that moment was glorious. The girl he’d been longing for finally looked at him the way he’d dreamt she would. The kiss was fueled by each person’s intensity and passion. For once he felt _wanted_. She genuinely chose him.. He pressed his lips together in attempts to recreate her kiss to no avail. _At least she has the pearl._

His throat tightened as tears brimmed in his eyes. _No, don’t cry. You don’t want the guards to hear you. You know what? Screw them! What are they going to do, arrest me for being human?_ He buried his face into the pillow as the salty water escaped. _If you’re out there Katniss, I hope you’re safe. And that you’re taken care of and loved. Even if I’m not the one by your side._ His heart writhed again. _God, I hate knowing not where she is or whether she’s alive or dead. Now I know how the singer from “The Hanging Tree” feels._ The tears continued to fall as he left this world for the world of nightmares.

That night, he was a lone wolf wandering through a forest similar to one that surrounds District 12. It was night and the scene was eerily silent. He came across the wolf-like mutations that chased him and Katniss up the Cornucopia. The beasts spotted him and began chasing him. He ran as fast as he could but their growls loomed closer. Finally he was ambushed from behind by the three most agile. The wolf yelped and howled for help but no one came. He was alone. He screamed himself awake with sweat pouring down his face mixed with remaining tears from last night’s cry.

 

Ignatius burst into his room. “What is all this racket about?”

Peeta’s face reddened. “Sorry… nightmare.”

“You better get your shit together Mellark. We’ve got a busy day planned for you. You got 10 _minutes_.” The escort turned on his heel and slammed.

 _Well good morning to you too, asshole._ Peeta continued heavily breathing for a moment or two. _This wouldn’t have happened if Katniss were here. She would know, she would understand._ He imagined himself stroking her tousled and wavy hair. He found himself doing the motion as if she was really there. _He’s right. Get your shit together, Peeta. You have a different role now. You’ll never be Katniss’s lover again if either government has any say about it._

 

At the breakfast table, Ignatius had a message from President Snow:  propose a ceasefire on Panem’s national network in a televised interview with Caesar Flickerman. If he did that, the dictator would consider setting him free. The next few hours were spent discussing this proposition with Ignatius as the messenger. He eventually got so frustrated with the process that he spat out ‘if this is so damn important, why doesn’t he ask me himself?’

Ignatius threatened to turn Peeta into an Avox right then and there. The game concluded as thus: Peeta would propose the ceasefire as long as Katniss was protected. If they knew anything about her whereabouts, they couldn’t seek her out and hurt her. Surprisingly, President Snow agreed.

 

Around three p.m., a new prep team arrived. All three looked the same: Tall, dark hair, pale skin and gaunt features. Even looked a little emaciated, which he figured was on purpose. They were the polar opposite of Portia and her assistants: cold, standoffish, and never answered with more than three or four words. Whereas Portia was charismatic, warm and treated him as if he was a longtime friend. He had a sinking suspicion that something horrible had happened to her, just like Cinna. The only way he could confirm was by asking.

“Where’s Portia?

“She’s been reassigned to another victor.” The stylist replied monotonously.

 _Reassigned my ass._ “I don’t believe you. Tell me the truth.”

“That IS the TRUTH and if you ask any more questions on the matter, I’ll cut your face for all of Panem to see.”

He bit his lip as the stylist's comrades gasped. _She has to be dead. The Peacekeepers were ruthless when they beat her_. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, journeying back to that suffocating glass tube. Her screams and attempts to fight back only provoked more brutality from her attackers. How cruel that his last image of Portia was limp and bloody, not tall and proud as she supported him through the circus. _It’s all so unfair. People are suffering and dying because a sick psycho decided he wanted to rule the world. They deserve a better quality of life, but he doesn’t give a shit about us. He never has._

Peeta gripped the arms of his chair in attempt to control his anger. _Steady yourself. It’s not worth it. Any toe out of line will be seen as an act of defiance._

The next hour was painfully silent. The two other stylists were stepping around the one who got cross with Peeta. He couldn’t make pleasant conversation with any of them. They stripped him down to a guy’s Beauty Base Zero: Glowing skin, sleek hair, blinding white teeth, with no visible hair on the body or face. He had to give them credit, though: he did look good.

 

He arrived at one of President Snow’s sitting rooms at six p.m. An undeniable flash of tightly gelled blue hair and gaudy paisley suit awaited him.

“So, we meet again Peeta Mellark.” The host said with an outstretched hand.

“Indeed we do, Caesar Flickerman.” Peeta shook it. "How are you?”

“Just fine. Wish I could say the same thing about you.”

The victor shrugged. “I’m used to the plot twists by now. My life isn’t mine anymore.”

Caesar frowned as his eyes wandered to the armed Peacekeeper behind Peeta. “What’s he doing here?”

“The president sent him to keep me in line.  Don’t worry, he won’t bite unless I disown the Captiol.”

“I don’t know how you do it, my boy.”

“What?”

“Even with impending death breathing down your neck you can make light of the situation.”

“I have to,” Peeta whispered. “Otherwise I’ll go mad from all the horrors I’ve witnessed.”

“I can’t imagine. Well, let’s get down to business, shall we?”

“Please.” He sat down in the chair across from Caesar, making sure to keep his head uplifted to avoid the blade embedded in his collar. It was proving to be a harder than anticipated task.

 

The interview aired on all Capitol television sets that night. Everyone was enthralled with Peeta’s account of what happened in the jungle. Therefore, the rest of the night was spent schmoozing with Capitol dignitaries recounting the story. Many asked his and Katniss’s baby. He didn’t have the heart to tell anyone it was a ploy to gain sympathy; he simply said Katniss was doing great and they looked forward to being parents.

                                                                                                   

While all the Capitol citizens lauded him, the districts would likely call him a traitor and write his death warrant.  Neither side would protect him at all costs. The Capitol could torture him for refusing to be the pawn on their chessboard and the rebels would destroy him at the first opportunity because he was associated with the government.

 

(The next day)

 

“President Snow wants to speak with you.”

 _So NOW he’ll speak to me in person. Now that he knows I can be a perfect puppet._ “About?”

“He didn’t disclose that information; only that you are to be at his office by 2:00 p.m. or expect drastic consequences.”

 _Oooh, I’m so scared._ “I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“No. Your stylists will be here in five minutes to prepare for the occasion.”

“Okay. Is that all?”

“For now anyway. Good day.”

Peeta nodded curtly as his escort exited the quarters. He sighed. This would be his first encounter with President Snow without Katniss, a TV camera or an audience. He will be face to face with the man responsible for countless ruined lives. What could he say? No words sufficed in describing his emotions towards his country’s leader. Anger wanted to air out all his grievances but reason said to negotiate. _President Snow doesn't do negotiating, though. If you're not on his side, you're gone._

The second session was just as painful as the first. Two of them got into a ten minute argument about how to style Peeta’s hair. He internally rolled his eyes. _Must be nice that your biggest worry is whether to keep your client’s hair curly or straight._ They finally agreed to use a flat iron and part to the left so it looks “Effortless and natural”. With as many products that they used, it was anything but.

Peeta arrived at President Snow’s mansion five minutes before the hour, accompanied by two armed guards. His heart relentlessly raced. While he wasn’t scared of his leader, he was intimidated by his power. _Hey, you have a significant amount of power, too. You can persuade and negotiate. Hell, you convinced almost of all of Panem that you impregnated your TV fiancée to gain sympathy from the voters. You can hold your own against him. Trust your instincts._

One of the guards knocked on the door.

“Come in!” the president called out.

 _Here goes nothing. You can do this, Mellark._ The guard escorted the victor in a spacious and regal library. _You’d never read out of reading material in here._ President Snow was seated in the middle, accompanied by a stretched too thin plastic smile. He took a deep breath and sat down across from the old man.

President Snow started out the conversation by thanking Peeta for doing the interview. He was pleased with how the information was presented. He brushed it off, merely stated he was being honest. The leader responded that peace needed to come from someone the population felt like He needed Peeta to be that friend and voice of reason.

The victor shook his head “No. I can’t do that.”

“And why not?”

Peeta took a deep breath. “With all due respect Mr. President, I can’t willingly stand behind a hypocritical institution like Capitol government. You say you have our best interests at heart but then deprive us of basic human necessities. Haven’t you considered what damaged you’ve caused?  How many workers who have died producing your creature comforts? How many families who are starving, getting by on pittances and then you even steal that away? How many hearts are broken watching their loved ones die on television each year? How can you justify that?”

“They’re sinners who deserve to be punished. The citizens caused the Dark Days, not the government. Therefore they must suffer the consequences.”

“That occurred three generations ago. Most everyone who participated in that rebellion has died by now.”

President Snow held up a finger as he sipped a glass of wine. “But not the ideas.  Families pass down stories and values through their offspring. That makes all the difference. You know, as a long time politician, I’m come across many young people such as yourself who think they can do my job better than I can.”

Peeta scoffed. “I only asked you a question. Are you not taking those now?”

“Of course. You can ask me anything you want.”

 _As long as it coincides with your viewpoint, anyway._ “Then why do you get such satisfaction making your citizens’ lives a living hell? Are you so miserable and empty inside that you intend to ruin everyone else’s lives just so yours can be golden??”

The president shrugged. “Maybe I am. My motivations are none of your concern. All you need to know is Panem is my domain and I will rule as I please.”

The victor’s jaw squared off. “You disgust me. Won’t even answer a few simple questions.”

President Snow motioned to his servant. “Take him away. I won’t stand for such blasphemy being spewed in my face.” He turned back to his prisoner with his maniacal smile. “We’ll see if you’ll have the same stance once I get done with you, boy.”

“I will oppose your regime until the day I die. That’s a promise.” Peeta declared as the guard grabbed his arms and locked him into handcuffs.

“I’d like to see you try.” He turned to the guard. “Lock this rogue juvenile in the dungeon. He’s a danger to our society.”

 _Only because I refuse to be a mindless sheep that blindly accepts everything his leader says as gospel_. Katniss was right; President Snow wouldn't be fooled twice or even three times. _Maybe I shouldn’t have been so antagonizing. Then again, I’d be going against what I told Katniss the night before our first Games. I rather die expressing my truth rather than willingly serve as a poster child for tyranny._

Peeta was escorted to the dungeon, located in the mansion’s basement. He was forced to change into a stark white prison uniform at gunpoint, handled by a Peacekeeper the size of Brutus. He was afraid the man would shoot him while naked like he had read in the history books. Luckily that didn’t happen. He was then taken to a lifeless interrogation room like when he first arrived. His arms were tied behind his back and shackled to a metal chair. Awaiting him was a woman in her mid-fifties with anger lines ingrained in her face. Strangely, she reminded him of his mother.

She cleared her throat. “Mr. Mellark, this is your final chance for redemption. Tell me the truth and you’ll see your precious little whore again. Tell me everything you know and you shall be set free.”

“I told you, I knew nothing and I know nothing now. How would I have had time since the Capitol is watching my every move since I was captured?”

“Silence! You’re lying and you know it!"

“I’m not!" Peeta pleaded. "I thought I was in another Games, trying to be the good player you people want me to be.”

“And you did your job well, lover boy. However, we have a new role for you.

Peeta narrowed his eyes. “And what is that, exactly?”

“President Snow captured you from that arena to manipulate Katniss. It’s his specialty, killing and maiming loved ones of those who deviate from the norm. We have a special form of torture reserved for the ugliest of criminals.” She cackled like Glimmer and Clove from his first Games. “Trust me honey, once we get done with you, you’ll never love her again.”

Peeta's eyes widened in horror. _Snow's going to use me to hurt Katniss. He couldn't care less_ about physical harm to himself; his mother alone inflicted lifetimes of immeasurable physical and emotional agony and damage. _No, not Katniss_!

“LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS!” He thrashed his arms and legs but the shackles continued to impose their will.

“Why should we? She’s challenged the system repeatedly and caused major destruction as a result.”

 _In case you haven’t noticed, your system is shitty._ “She didn’t want this. She can’t control what other people decide to do.”

“Shooting the arrow at the sky seems suspect to me. You had to know what was going on.”

“I TOLD YOU” Peeta bellowed. “I knew nothing and I don’t know anything now.”

“PATHETIC LIAR!” She struck his cheek several times. It was all too reminiscent of when Mrs. Mellark used to strike him as a child.

He kicked his leg towards his interrogator who backed off and spat in his face. “Now you’ve crossed the line Mr. Mellark! You’ve attempted assault on a woman. Not only that, but a woman with high ranking authority.  I have to call in enforcements. You’re a danger to Capitol society and no longer permitted to roam freely.”

 _What the fuck? You’ve got me chained up like a helpless animal that you think you can abuse for your amusement. And yet I’m the criminal?_ “You’ve taken away my freedom already, ma’am” he muttered behind gritted teeth.

“ENOUGH!” She kicked him in the stomach with her four inch heels. He gasped for air as the chair fell backwards. His head landed straight on the concrete.

“There.” She sneered. “That’ll teach you not to defy the authorities."

Peeta continued struggling for breath while she stood over him just like his mother did. Condescending features, iron in her voice and merciless in her actions. She would constantly shout phrases like “Grow up!” “Don’t be such a baby!” And her favorite, whenever he tried to question her behavior and stand up for himself: “Don’t you dare backtalk me! I’m your mother!”

"You're right where you belong, peasant! We'll make sure neither you nor your people rise up again." Her heels clicked against the pavement as she exited the room.

Peeta lamented a sigh as his head started throbbing _. I'm doomed to become what I didn't want to be: another piece in their games_. _Oh universe, why don't you just let me die here? Nothing is left for me. End my life so she can be saved._ He looked up toward the glass ceiling. The skies were gray with dark charcoal clouds bundling together. _My dreams are dead. The clouds are arranging my funeral as we speak. They’re more than welcome to drown me in this storm. It’d be less painful than whatever the Capitol has planned for me._

His tongue caresses the inside of his lips. _Katniss, if you’re out there I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you. I’m sorry we didn’t stick to our original plan and go off on our own like you wanted. I hope you are safe and out of harm’s way. Know that I will always love you. It’s too late for me but not you. Give people hope that they don’t have to tolerate the way they’ve been treated all their lives. Hold this government accountable. You can do this. Spread your wings and be the Mockingjay._ He closed his eyes and left this world.


End file.
